The Sacred and Profane
by autumnrebellion
Summary: Isabella Swan relocates to Forks for her senior year and is immediately immersed in the world of rock 'n' roll and the trials and tribulations of high school politics all whilst harbouring a crush for intellectual musician Edward Cullen.
1. Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll

A/N – All characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter One

**Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll**

Interpersonal attraction is related to how much we like, dislike, love or hate someone. Well according to the textbook I acquired back in Phoenix. Said textbook also states that when measuring a level of interpersonal attraction one must take into account the qualities of the attracted as well as the qualities of the attractor to achieve predictive accuracy.

This is what makes the whole situation so confusing in my mind. I don't know whether it was because, at heart, I am a hopeless romantic. I mean isn't every girl? Even Rose with her bulldog bite has a soft centre and lusted after romantic ideals.

Or whether I really had, finally, gone insane. That was a possibility.

Even Jane, with her eloquent descriptions of both Henry Crawford and Mr Darcy had not prepared me for the whirlwind that was Edward Cullen.

I first set sight on Edward Cullen when I moved to Forks, Washington in the summer of '05 aged 17. Rosalie Hale's twin brother and his band were playing at the local academy in downtown Port Angeles and she dragged Alice and me into going. Alice had no qualms about going for the subject of her affection; her crush for the past year, Jasper Hale would be there. I really didn't have anything to lose by going so it was decided.

__

We walk into the stylus with our arms thrown over one another and we're laughing. I don't remember what we found so funny but I know that my cheeks begin to ache.

I haven't smiled like this in months.

We reach the bar and Rose takes away the arm which was over my shoulder, a security blanket, and for the first time I feel exposed. My long brunette waves are pinned up messily and my upper torso is clothed in a delicate, navy, sleeveless blouse, the narrow white valley of my sternum exhibited to just above my navel. I place my hands on the bar and I can feel the sticky remnants of spilled liquor on my forearms. My nails are painted ebony which, like the navy of my blouse, makes my milky skin appear somewhat translucent, the blue-y river of veins flowing underneath.

The wine we drank before is flowing through my system and I feel buzzed. I didn't really drink that often in Phoenix, I suppose I didn't really go out which is probably a sufficient reason. I stare at the fluorescents above with awe-like wonder before Rose tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear and pushes my jack on the rocks in front of me. I watch Alice sip her magenta drink. Her pixie cut has grown out and her short, black bob reaches her chin. She grabs my hand, sensing my nerves, as we follow Rose deeper into the club, the blond water down her back a beacon in the darkness.

I wonder why two such exquisite and startling creatures would want to be my friends.

Rose leads us to a small balcony about 5ft above the main floor which gives us a perfect view of the stage. I lean on the railing in front of me as Alice lights up a cigarette, I watch as the wisps of smoke uncurl from her mouth before taking a drag and passing it to Rosalie. I don't know how long we stand there but I know that from the glasses on the table to the side of us that I have had three more jack on the rocks before the atmosphere changes. It becomes tense and somehow everything seems much more alive. I glance to the stage and notice that despite it still being dark there are now four figures picking up their instruments.

The opening chords to a Killers song I knew well resonated around the club and as the lights went up my blood began to rush and my heart began to race and as Edward Cullen crooned the lyrics into the mic I knew that things had changed. His tall frame encased in a sharp, black suit, white shirt and thin black tie around his neck. His wayward hair sparkled bronze in the bright stage lights and his hands strummed the cream telecaster hanging from his shoulders.

As the guitars wail my muscles twitch and I am drawn to the dancefloor down below, Rose and Alice on my tail and we dance. Rose has the full attention of every male within a 2 metre radius and I don't know whether feeding off of Rose's confidence, Alice's enthusiasm, my years of dancing or the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream made this all so perfect. A grin broke out on my face as Rose and Alice mocked the grinding skanks around us and I shut my eyes and raise my arms in the air concentrating on the music and feeling the bass and at the moment nothing could beat it.

I open my eyes and am met by a startling emerald. His fingers caressed that bitch of a Fender daring me to retaliate. I was no longer dancing to the band, I was dancing to him. To the whine of his guitar, to the lyrics he cantillated, to the rhythm of his fucking fingers on that fretboard.

We dance to every beat the band throw at us, our hips moving to the throaty thrum of the bass and the sultry whispers and whines of the guitars. By the end of my set my cheeks are tinged pink and I place two fingers to my mouth letting Alice and Rose know that I'm going for a smoke. I grab a caipirinha and wander up to the balcony which we watched from earlier. I touch the lighter to the tip and watch the amber smoulder in the darkness and embrace the burn of the cigarette and the liquor as it slipped down my throat.

It was then, that evening, that my attraction/infatuation...call it what you will, with Edward began. I didn't know him; I didn't know anything about him. Yet I liked him...that was for sure.


	2. Say It Ain't So

A/N – All characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 2

**Say It Ain't So**

I stared blankly ahead as the 70s Cadillac Jacob restored for my father, my 17th birthday present, twisted with ease around the sharp roads. I inhaled deeply on the Marlboro and watched as the tall trees which lined either side of the road moved gently in the wind and as I exhaled the toxin riddled smoke seemed to imitate their ridiculous dance, beckoning us into the black hole that was Queen Mary's Catholic High School.

No I wasn't being dramatic.

You may claim that I am but I assure you that I'm not. I loved Alice, Rose, my mom and dad with all my heart but I never really wanted to return here. Although Forks had never done anything to me I couldn't help but associate it with the only bleak period in my life. In October 1999, the last time I was in Forks, my mother ran off to Phoenix.

She came back of course. My mother was many things, but she wasn't _that. _She would never leave her child and husband to fend for themselves', she just needed "space" or so she claimed. I think both Charlie and I knew that the real reason she left was due to the prison like place she felt Forks was for her at the time.

My mother was going through one of her crazy phases at the time and felt that her free spirit was being "tied down". I think that was probably why Charlie never seemed too worried: that or he put on a brave front for his daughter. When Renée returned to the family home 3 years later it was safe to say the craze was over.

The discordant notes claiming to be songs which were forced from Nana Swan's old upright only reinforced this.

Surprisingly I ended up staying in Phoenix until earlier this year. I mean of course I returned for a few months in the summer but seeing as I had settled into school when my mother first uprooted us from Forks she was hesitant to unsettle me once again so I stayed with her sister, my aunt Ava. The decision for me to move home came about in part due to my strong friendships with Alice and Rose and partly because in only a year's time I'd be flying any form of family nest for college, this kick-started Renee's maternal instincts and she brought me home.

I never really remembered much from the my initial stay in Forks other than the Berry Cobbler, Renée brought home every Sunday so I guess I was slightly surprised and disappointed when I first saw the thick grey blanket which covered the sky when I opened my curtains.

I suppose I'm probably not being all that fair considering it is 7.30 in the morning and the dull fog will disappear by 9 and I'll be able to take in the copper trees in all their glory.

For the two months previous which I had lived here, Forks had seemed surprisingly pleasant. It wasn't a particularly old town by most standards, most of the buildings only dating back to a century and half ago: Nana Swan's, the house where she lived with my family, being one of them. However, the memories and ghosts of the Civil War still circulated here and were very much alive, as real as the local supermarket and Margey Malone's cat. I actually felt more settled here than I had for the majority of my teen years in Phoenix. I guess I feel I'm on the same wavelength as Alice and Rose, this thought is reiterated when I pull up at Al's and her and rose hop in with Thermos' full of strong coffee.

Although my heart and interests were mainly preoccupied with the sciences, over the years I'd gained a substantial amount of interest and respect for history and the past.

Despite this I still wasn't in the most pleasant of moods and my current distaste was probably also partly due to the early morning start.

My final cause of distaste is due to the lovely attire I was now sporting. Queen Mary's Catholic High School had a uniform.

So here I sit wearing a navy blue skirt, black tights, white shirt, a navy bow around my neck and a navy cardigan attempting to drink my coffee, smoke my cigarette, drive the car and talk to my girls.

Of course knowing that it was a Catholic school I had to extort the uniform as much as I could...why wait for Halloween to do "Naughty Catholic School girl" when you can do it at school itself.

I kid, although I have shortened the skirt, worn a fitted blouse and heeled Mary-Jane's I have not turned into a complete slut...If only Isabella Swan was so daring.

I think Charlie said some awkward quip about never having to wear sun-cream in response to my questioning to the state of grey but I cannot be sure. Instead I was far more focused on the looming high school building and thanking god that he didn't insist upon dropping me off in the cruiser, not only would that have been mortifying I also wouldn't have time to address my two addictions.

It was pretty typical as far as high schools go. Well. In a way. The Queen Mary's Catholic building was pretty impressive considering its placement in a small town. With its ornate details and extravagant entrance way it screamed public school: my own personal hell waiting for me behind the two wooden entrance doors five days a week.

That's not to say I was a bad student, quite the contrary I guess. I'd always achieved high A grades throughout my high school career to date which was probably no surprise. With a non-existent social life I didn't really have anything else to do. That's not to say I wasn't motivated.

I didn't plan on that many things but my future education was certainly one of them. Of course I always strived to do well but my main reason for pushing myself so hard was my desire to pursue politcal science. I'd managed to find courses at the University of Washington which wasn't too far away and I had a decent chance of getting a place. The Ivy League seemed all too daunting right now.

As we parked up at school we loitered at the side of the car drinking the remains of our coffee and just generally killing time before the first bell when he pulled up.

"Cullen seems to be getting more ostentatious with age." Muttered Rose as she took a drag: any worry of being caught by some lurking teacher seemingly not apparent. Chancing a look at her she seemed far more cool and collected than any Vogue model could ever yearn to be.

The mention of his surname seemed to start the hurricane of butterflies in my stomach once again reminding me of how I felt thirteen instead of seventeen. It also reminded me of the drunken conversation I had with Alice the day after the gig we went to last Thursday. Edward Cullen was apparently a senior here and pretty much the bad boy your mother would welcome into your home. He was lusted after by the female population in Forks but was very much off the market. His tumultuous romance with Tanya Denali: a supposed ice queen who had been a senior the year before and who was now travelling the world for modelling work. Oh I forgot to mention that she's also at Princeton studying pre-law. Could it get any worse?

The sleek black Volvo purred through the parking lot to the space located between two rusting Fords, moving as lazily as a panther stalking its prey.

When the car came to a stop, the door was opened swiftly and I was able to glimpse the driver.

"Oh my god" came the exhaled whisper from behind, I glanced at Rosalie and bit back a smile at her eye roll.

From where I was stood I could see that beneath the uniform grey slacks and white shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, that he had a lean, flat-muscled body. His hair was the most unique colour of bronze and was formed in an unruly mess: something which a hairdresser would perfect for hours no doubt but with the air he gave off; as he started to walk across the lot in his black Wayfarer's, a chorus of whispers and sighs left in his wake, it was probably more likely that he tended to get out of bed looking like this.

The paleness of his skin was particularly striking. Striking in the sense that coupled with the sharp jawline and cheekbones which lay beneath it would be impossible to ever call this boy "cute". That and a mouth to keep you awake at night.

_What I assumed would keep you awake at night._

I mean I thought he looked fantastic in the harsh stage lights of the club but now in daylight, words couldn't describe.

I noticed that every girl who he walked past gained a pink colouring to their cheeks. Although I found the effect he had on them incredibly pathetic, I mean he's a human being for goodness sake, not a god...although he did appear like what I imagined one to be, I couldn't help but suspect that my cheeks would also be tainted by the rose hue which coloured theirs.

"Come on girls, we have homeroom" and with that Rose was off, her long-legged gate graceful yet determined as she set off for the school, Alice and I following in her wake.


	3. The One

A/N – Characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 3

**The One**

Upon walking through the large gated doors at the front of the school which make me feel like I'm entering a prison or someplace where I'm about to meet uncertain death as opposed to a successful and highly commended educational institution.

"I'm really sorry Bel but you need to go have a 'meeting' with Headmaster Birkhall: Rose and I will meet you here just before lunch though as we're not sure which classes we'll share." Alice tells me, rubbing my shoulder in a pitying manner which only leads me to believe that this impromptu "meeting" really isn't going to be pleasant.

Alice takes me to the Headmaster's office on her way to calculus and with a brief hug and "good luck" I'm all alone and everything seems so incredibly daunting. I mean it's all so very formal around here. Not that things in Phoenix were lax or anything, I mean every morning at 8 o'clock I felt like my body had suffered through some kind of assault during what was supposedly an "illegal substances and weapons check". Things here were just very different.

I push the door open and am met with what I assume is a small waiting area as a small lady who's name I know as "Mrs Caroline Cope" thanks to the pristine plaque at the front of her desk.

"Um, excuse me, erm Mrs Cope?" I presume I said it loud enough, I'm sure that I did. I mean I'm not about to shout at the woman but she hasn't acknowledged me. Maybe she didn't hear. Should I repeat would I said? No I probably shouldn't. Fucking hell what is the actual point of this. I settle for clearing my throat. That seems to do it as I am met with suspiciously beady eyes framed by what I can only describe as grotesque, snot coloured, horn rimmed glasses.

"Oh erm, hi! Well I'm Isabella Swan, well Bella. Which is short for Isabella but really I do answer to either. Erm shoot, yes, well is Headmaster Birkhall there? I was told that I had to report here immediately upon entering the school. I presume to enrol and whatnot but yes. I'm not sure if my name will be written down as Isabella or Bella Swan, so yes, is he there?" I ramble as she keeps those horrific glasses on my face the whole time making me feel even more of a bigger dick...if that was even possible.

"One moment" she utters, in an incredibly nasally voice; before disappearing behind a door to the left of the desk leaving me all alone in this godforsaken waiting area.

A moment later the door opens.

"Headmaster Birkhall will see you now."

"Erm, great... great thanks." And I disappear through the door which she points to. Yes Mrs Cope I am new here but I'm not stupid. There are only two doors in this room, one of which I entered through and by process of elimination I am pretty sure, 99.9% sure that the door which I just saw you go through leads me to what I assume will be the grilling of my life.

A portly man with white facial hair that could rival Captain Birdseye stands upon my arrival in his office and clasps my withering hand in a strong handshake.

"Miss Swan I'm Headmaster Birkhall, please take a seat" I do as well who wants to rile Captain Birdseye? Certainly not me, that's who, I am far too attached to my fish finger sandwiches. I sit down and sink into what can only be described as blood coloured, how lovely, leather, doing as Alice told me...cross legs, pull down skirt a little, and fold hands on knee. Yes I've done that, I really hope the Captain thinks I'm all prim and proper.

"You're obviously a bright girl Miss Swan."

"Thank you." Maybe old slug face out there didn't disclose my less than successful first impression after all. Maybe this won't go completely tits up.

"Good grades and your teachers seemed rather fond of you. You don't appear to have taken part in many, well any, social activities though."

"Well I did take part in the annual bake sale; I make a wonderful lemon sponge. But yes I suppose that statement is correct overall. Living with my aunt and her three children was social enough. If I'm honest I didn't really have that much time. Aunt Ava needed help and who was I not to provide it when she graciously took me in."

"Did nothing appeal to you?" Completely mishearing what I just said I presume.

"Well no not really. I mean a book club maybe? Or something to do with science or history? I'm just not all that interested in sports and my school was pretty into that. There was a German club; I think there were only about five of us though. Three left after watching Schindler's List so that left two, myself and another girl. This was when we were about fifteen. Nancy hit sixteen and it was no longer cool, not that it ever was really, to be in the German club so that just left myself I suppose"

"What are your aspirations?"

"Well I want to go to the University of Washington to study political science and journalism"

"On your way to becoming..."

"Karen Maron"

"Karen Maron? Really?"

"Yes"

"Not Betty Nguyen?"

"No...I mean maybe Christiane Amanpour"

"Well why is it that you wish to be these women?"

"Well I don't want to be them per se; I aspire to do what they do. I mean I want to travel, report what is actually happening in places like Lebanon and the Putumayo region. To be part of something important: something big."

"And to be part of something big you need to be on television? Why not aid the police in a drug raid? Surely that's a quicker way to achieve this goal?"

"Being on TV has nothing to do with it. I mean maybe I'll just be a journalist who writes for the Peninsula Daily News about what is happening in this district? Who knows...I just want to see something."

"Queen Mary's Catholic has one of the highest academic standards of any school in America. You may have been the smartest girl at Arcadia High School, but this is a different place. The pressures are greater, the rules are stricter, and the expectations are higher. If you make it through, you will have received one of the finest educations one can get, and there should be no reason why you should not achieve all your goals. However, since you are starting late and are not used to this highly competitive atmosphere, there is a good chance you will fail. You probably will fail. That is fine. Failure is a part of life, but not a part of Queen Mary's Catholic. Understand?

Frankly I'm pretty flummoxed at this point.

"Take this to Mrs Cope outside and she'll give you your timetable."

I wander back out into the slug's den and I really don't think it can get any worse than this. I'm at least a month behind work wise as I suspect they up their game around here. I mean sure I was in AP classes back in Phoenix but I think foundation level here would be the equivalent. I really am fucking screwed.

I make it just in time for AP English and after being directed to my seat, one situated near the back thank god. A mousey Asian girl next to me introduces herself as Angela and I'm thanking god that finally someone around here seems human. Slug face and Birdseye seemed like programmed robots.

I'm afforded the right to remain silent when the teacher, Miss Newberry, states that there is a new student but doesn't make me traipse to the front of the room to disclose details about how I live in blah blah house and have 7 cats etc...I mean no one ever wants to know. To this I'm grateful. Maybe things won't be so dreadful after all.

"Right class as we learnt last term French Culture certainly had great influence on Russian nobility, aside from preferring the everyday use of the French language opposed to Russian, the Russian monied class were certainly partial to French authors such as Jean de la Fontaine, Eugene Sue and..."

A girl with honey blonde curls on the front row raises her hand: "Victor Hugo"

"English culture also had a significant impact, for example the Russian aristocracy were often quite out of touch when it came to subjects like peasantry that "people's poet"..."

"Robert Burns" Blondie chimed again.

"Yes, Burns, who when translated into Russian, became some kind of symbol for the ordinary Russian people. I mean the Soviet Union even commended Burns with a commemorative stamp, the first country in the world to do so. It was said that he was somewhat enthusiastic about the egalitarian ethos behind the French revolution, whether Burns would have recognised the same efforts be put into effect in the Soviet State we don't know but we could assume, perhaps, that his opinion certainly would be debatable. Anyway, another influence, Tolstoy's favourite author was in fact..."

"Dickens" there she goes again.

"Correct Miss Denali" – hang on Denali...where do I know that from? Fucking hell, why is it that at times my memory really does transform into some giant sieve? "And, of course, last term we learnt that Dostoevsky's main influences..."

"Are George Sands and Balzac."

"Good. As Tolstoy commenced writing both War and Peace and Anna Karenina, Count Leo would turn to..."

"David Copperfield." Hang on, did I just say that? I turn to Angela and she looks...shocked? The class is silent at this point, not that it wasn't silent before I suppose. Miss Newberry just hasn't carried on. I think she is shocked also. I think she isn't shocked when "Miss Denali" spouts off and showcases her insane intelligence. Maybe she's shocked that I, the new student managed to get in there before Goldie locks. I suspect it's a rare occurrence.

"Correct Miss Swan, he would turn to David Copperfield for influence" and she smiles! Miss Newberry smiled at me...well I think she did. I just know that not once did she look happy when kiss ass at the front said anything.

Speaking of kiss ass she really doesn't look impressed. That's putting it mildly. As class is dismissed she turns her shockingly blue eyes on me and I think hell is actually freezing over. I tell Rose and Al about the whole debacle later and from the way Alice's constant smile drops I can tell that something really is very wrong about the whole situation.

We're currently sat on a picnic bench outside in the quad and my girls are filling me in on the details. The delicious Braeburn that Renee gave me this morning inches down my throat and I swear that any moment I may choke as it seems my saliva glands have decided to stop working. "Miss Denali" is heading for the Ivy League, editor of the school paper and a contender for valedictorian. "Miss Denali" is infact "Kate Denali" the younger sister of Tanya Denali. Tanya Denali being the catwalk paramour of Edward Cullen.

Not only am I god alone knows how far behind in my school work I've also made a rival in the form of the sister of some godlike human being I've some bizarre infatuation with's lover...fuck my life.


	4. Obstacle 1

A/N – characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 4

**Obstacle 1**

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by my dusty Russian volumes which really have been neglected for far too long...I mean I used to read these things quite frequently, I'd aim to get through one of the depressing things in at least a month. I know you may be thinking that I look at the wonderful Dostoevsky, Pushkin and their Russian brothers with such disdain but really, as much appreciation as I have for their hefty volumes, they are pretty heavy going.

I'm about to open The Kreutzer Sonata when my bedroom door is flung open by the blonde cyclone that is Rosalie Hale.

"What are you doing?" She all but yells, believe me I'm not kidding.

"Well Rose, I'm just tending to my beautiful begonias, I thought they were looking a little parched so...what do you think I'm doing? I'm reading Rose, reading." 

"And Bambi bites back. Keep that up. Use that tongue on me like that again mind and you won't know what hit you but it will stand you in good stead against Lady Bitchalot. I can see that you're reading but it's a Friday night. Did you join the AV club during these last few hours also? Because really I don't think I really know anyone other than Eric Yorkie who spends their Friday evening reading. We're going to a party." 

I start making my excuses because I really do not want to go to this sordid event which Rose has told me about. I've had enough with the people from the dick school as it is, spending my weekends with them as well...yeah that isn't going to happen. Ever since the get go, which was only Wednesday, Queen Mary's Catholic had been dire. I'm not exaggerating. You want to know how bad it got? Bella "the boffin" Swan got a D grade on a paper. Yeah. 

"_Decent effort by most" Medina says as he places our tests on each of our desks. Upon glancing at mine I feel nauseous. Like really sick. A D grade? I know I had catching up to do but I didn't think it was this much." Good effort by some, exceptional effort by two. Miss Denali, Miss Swan." Oh yeah, my D grade, fantastic achievement right there. "Take these home, learn from your mistakes. Look at the large red circles around various parts of your paper as friendly reminders that to you are human and everyone makes mistakes. Ok, next up. The test - the dreaded test. Shakespeare! The man we've been droning on about for the last three weeks, finally comes back to haunt us on Friday. This is a big one my friends - multiple choice with an essay section that will count for 20% of your grade for this semester. And don't be fooled by my kind face and charming personality. This test will be hard, and there will be no makeups. Refer to the study materials that I gave you at the beginning of the month and those extensive notes I know you've been taking."_

_I presumed the lesson was over as everyone started slamming books shut and forcing things into their bags with a rapid fashion. I sat there staring at my paper and that big red letter at the top vaguely aware of who was still in the room._

"_Hard paper" Yeah there she is again, it seems my nemesis is in the majority of my classes, well all of them with the exception of HR which I was yet to have but I suspected she would be in there too._

"_Killer" snarked one of her minions_

"_How'd you do Vic?"_

"_A"_

"_Me too"_

"_Oh small world"_

"_How'd you do Lauren?"_

"_B but you knew that"_

"_A 'B' isn't bad." What right did this horrific girl have to critique how well her friends were doing?_

"_I mean its pretty respectable isn't it Kate?"_

"_I'd be satisfied but that's only because I know I'm capable of much better but you should be very proud."_

"_A D grade however...that would be a cause for concern wouldn't it Kate?"_

"_Oh most definitely. I think I would seriously consider the possibility of going to a less rigorous institution, I mean QMC won't slow down for a few duds. Some people just aren't smart and as mother says someone is always needed to answer the phones or clean a sink or two."_

"_I really don't know what you two are talking about" chimes B grade._

"_No but Isabella does."...the ice cream on the cake._

"Bella your going and that's final. It's at Emmett McCarthy's house. Emmett McCarthy's house Isabella and he invited us. We don't turn that down so change out of that hideous excuse of an outfit and let's go!" 

Alice then chooses this moment to bound through the door after having a chinwag about lord knows what with Renee. She heads directly to my wardrobe and throws a black long sleeved knitted top and a black borderline indecent skirt onto my bed. Not wearing heels also isn't an option apparently so my feet are forced into the deathly platform devices that masquerade as shoes. I swear that I didn't buy them and suspect Alice placed them in my closet during one of her visits over this summer. I expect Renee also had something to do with it; she and Alice seem to be in close cahoots. 10 minutes later Rose has pulled the front of my hair off my face and pinned it back letting the rest fall down my back and around my shoulders in loose curls. Alice adds a little eyeliner and blush and declares me done.

I barely have time to grab my purse as we rush out of the house. I'm expecting to see Alice's canary yellow Porsche, why she got it in that colour I have no idea, but instead I see some bewildered boy who I assume is around our age. 

"Rose who's that, what've you done to him and what is he doing in my driveway?" 

"Silly Bella I haven't done anything to him, that's our ride Eric Yorkie and he's in your driveway because really where else do you suggest he pick us up? I thought about the diner but I cannot walk a mile and a half in these so shut your pretty little mouth and get in his car" 

"But Rose..." 

"But Rose nothing Bel, he's a safe driver and we'll just taxi back or something" 

"But Rose I thought that Eric Yorkie spent his Friday nights reading?" 

"Seriously shut up and get in"

It doesn't take us long to get to the party. The car ride was also quite pleasant, probably in part due to Alice's hipflask of whisky that she stole from her parents' liquor cabinet. We arrive at a large house about 3 miles from my own and as we get out of the car and take in the scene it reminds me of something out of a generic rom-com. We walk up the steps and I feel slightly shaky, alcohol once again altering my mental and physical working, and when we reach the top a girl I met earlier today in fact hands us all red cups full of ice cold beer. Thank god for Jessica Stanley, her annoying behaviour from school long since forgotten. 

_I figured after the first day everything and everyone would go back to their normal business and start, well start acting normally. I mean Rose was like a bulldog for god's sake. Wasn't her withering glare enough to keep them away? I was wrong. Oh so very wrong. Jessica Stanley, the petite brunette had made it her mission to make sure we would become "BFFs"...I mean what the hell? I had initially thought that she would lose her interest rapidly but as we currently sit in Calculus I feel my brain being slowly infiltrated by the meaningless statements she utters nearly none stop. I don't really know why she is in that class anyway, really no idea at all. One would think that she would be academically able but I soon discovered that that wasn't the case. We're currently studying co-ordinate geometry and when asked to find the equation of a circle Jess merely sat there drawing what I presumed were "pretty patterns", which made a scary resemblance to a Pagan symbol, in the centre of her circle. I had long since discovered not to ask Jess what she was doing as this just led to a slew of remarks about practically any subject and instead it was far better to just daze off...I had long since learnt how to find out the equation of a circle anyway._

_I was snapped from my thoughts by the bell some forty minutes later. To my dismay, Jessica Stanley seemed intent on picking up the conversation right where she had left off, not that she really did "leave off" anywhere. I had no severe objection against the girl but sometimes one just needs a tiny bit of peace and quiet; one thing I had learnt today was that I would never be given such luxuries in Miss Stanley's presence. I continued to zone out whilst we walked down the corridors, only catching brief bits of her tirade, "pale", "fuck-worthy" and the name "Edward Cullen" featured quite prominently. I mean although I have appreciation for the guitar toting god even I can't stand her groupie like awe. I mean he has a girlfriend for crying out loud. I at least attempt to censor my thoughts on him and limit my gushing to only Al and Rose. Even Renee's constant pestering about the male species here and the men from "that local band you went to see the other night...you know the one with Rose's brother in it?" will not make me crack. The only benefit of Jess' rant is that it is effectively stopped any random students coming up and starting a conversation about god knows what. Jess seemed perfectly content also, I discovered that by nodding my head whenever an opening for a response from me came in some form that she would merely continue talking. I had never met anyone who liked hearing their own voice so much and am beyond grateful when I see my two wing men waiting for me at our table, that icy glare scaring young Miss Stanley away._

I down the cup before we've made it through the door, anything to get me through this, and hand her the cup back. She doesn't look too pleased, maybe a little disgruntled. I think she wanted to chat. 

Apparently Rose and Al are pretty familiar with this scene. As they led me through the house to some form of communal area they greeted most passersby. Jasper Hale was concocting a variety of drinks and arched his eyebrow at his sister's appearance. Alice grip on my hand felt slightly sweaty and I felt somewhat relieved that I wasn't the only one nervous around here. Jasper being here pretty much meant that Edward would be here: as according to Rose they ran in the same circles. 

We grabbed a drink and went and sat on a small sofa in the corner, Rose on the arm whilst Alice and I huddled together on the seat. We chatted amongst ourselves and as the night wore on and the alcohol flowed we spoke to more people. Not one of them being Emmett McCarthy, Jasper Hale or Edward Cullen though. I was kind of surprised that Rose hadn't seen the first as this was his house after all but I just kind of came to the conclusion that Edward wasn't here after all. 

I finished my drink and told them both that I was going for a smoke, frankly the room was pretty much stifling and I could do with some fresh air. I found a bench not too far from the back door which was down a flight of steps into the garden. It was quieter here and I felt myself being able to think and beginning to evaluate the whole evening as I sat there. Inhaling and exhaling. Inhaling and exhaling. 

The garden really was quite beautiful. Inhale. There was a pool further down and what I presumed was a poolhouse. Exhale. It was dark so I couldn't quite distinguish what it was. Inhale. But it was some sort of outhouse. Exhale. Maybe a gazebo. Inhale. 

"I'm sorry to bother you but do you have a light?" and his voice was velvet. I turned to my right and was met with emerald green and wayward bronze and all over again the butterflies started churning. I felt my body involuntarily shiver, not from the cold. No it wasn't cold, rare for Forks; but from the fact that Edward Cullen was currently sat next to me in a meeting that was somewhat inevitable. 

Exhale.__


	5. Here Comes Your Man

A/N – characters belong to S. Meyer. I'm currently looking for a beta if there's anyone about. Also I'm sorry to have to say this but please review if you can, any feedback is very helpful.

Thanks, Ana. 

Chapter 5

**Here Comes Your Man**

Silence.

I mean it isn't uncomfortable of anything but I guess I'm kind of surprised. He hasn't said anything to me but he hasn't left either which suggests that he doesn't find my company completely offensive. That or he's being polite. Then again I don't think Edward Cullen is the type of person to do something he really doesn't want to do. I think about leaving, I mean I've finished my cigarette and I don't have a drink. I'm not really doing anything right now. Just sitting here. Oh god. What if he thinks I'm sitting here for him, which I kind of am doing I guess, I mean I need something to report back to my girls. I just don't want to be lumped with one of the pathetic saps that apparently fawn over him. Bella Swan doesn't fawn over guys. _Well what are you doing right now? _Oh shut up. He really does look good in black. Great minds think a-like clearly. Fucking hell this really is a new low, having a conversation with myself on a bench at a party whilst sitting next to -

"So you like Russian literature?"

I think he just spoke to me. Fuck. His voice really is like velvet. Is he looking at me? I don't know, I can't turn my head though. Yes I can, I mean looking at someone whilst they're talking to you is customary I suppose.

"Russian literature? Well I guess. Sorry, yes I do like it. I don't enjoy it a lot of the time but I like it." Fucking hell can I not speak? I swear my cheeks are the colour of Red galas right now. God this is so embarrassing, why could I not answer such a simple question in a simple manner, instead I've come across as a bumbling idiot...fan-fucking-tastic.

"I think I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Well yeah, I mean I have appreciation for Tolstoy and co but I mean I don't think even Eric Yorkie found Crime and Punishment a captivating read."

He takes a drag on his cigarette. Really pulls on it. It makes sense, he's smoking reds, and they're always serious smokers.

"Eric Yorkie seems like quite a nice guy. I almost feel bad for him." Fuck me, I know alcohol has its good points but seriously, where is my filter?

"He is; he has fantastic music taste. He works at Crash Records over in Port Angeles on a weekend."

"We listened to Come On Pilgrim in the car."

"Pixies?"

"Yeah, I mean I prefer Surfer Rosa. It was nice though."

"Yeah Surfer Rosa is better I think. I really like Gigantic."

"Me too, I wish Black Francis had let Kim do her thing a bit more."

"I have that album in my car if you want to go listen to it? Shit that makes me sound like an asshole. I just think this party is pretty lame and would rather do that."

"Sure." I laugh. "I don't really know anyone and it was getting pretty awkward."

"Oh I know the feeling."

"You do?"

"Well I only moved here a year or so ago. I'm from Alaska originally and I'd made my mind up on most of the complete and utter tools about a day after I started so hanging out at them at obscene parties was often awkward at times and not all that fun."

Walking through the house seems far more daunting than it was when entering. Edward leads the way and many people stare. Its obvious that they know him but unlike when Rose and al entered no-one says anything. I find this strange as Edward does seem approachable. Rose told me that many thought of Edward as a misanthropic dick and his relationship with senior Tanya Denali, whilst a junior, had typecast him as some form of sex god. The relationship was apparently tumultuous and no-one really knew whether he and Tanya were still together, it was just complicated. Rose knew Edward through Emmett who she'd being crushing on since sophomore year and in her opinion Edward was anything but misanthropic he just let the girls who objectified him and guys who wanted to be him paint him in a harsh light with their vapid, envy and bitter coloured brushes. I presume this was why no one really said anything as we made our way out the front door.

We continue to talk as we walk to his car and after firing a text off to Rose to let her know where I am it strikes me how normal Edward Cullen actually is. I mean sure, God did spend a little more time creating him than most people but he really is just a normal teen. I can relate to him.

His scent enfolds me in a blanket when I sit down on the soft black leather. It's an old car as the inside is quite dated but everything is pristine. There is, however, a very new cd system.

He leans over me to reach into the glove compartment, pulling out a copy of Surfer Rosa. As he leans back his arm brushes my leg unknowingly and once again the butterflies started up their frenzied dance once again in my stomach.

As the music starts once again we fall into easy conversation.

"So you're from Arizona?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well you're not very tan?"

"I'm part albino."

"Seriously?"

"No."

"That's not very funny."

"It kind of is though isn't it?"

"Well my mom is part albino so yeah." And I swear that I can hear crickets chirping. Talk about a foot in mouth situation. I think my best port of call is to apologise, so I do.

"Shit I'm sorry. Fucking hell..."

"Oh don't worry, I mean I would find it kind of funny too. I mean it is as my mom isn't actually part albino but not as funny as your face right now." Edward Cullen is actually kind of funny which I didn't expect.

"So Swan what do you think of the people you've met so far?"

"So far in life? Crikey Cullen I can't remember everyone."

"Very funny. I mean the people from Forks, you must have formed some kind of opinion."

"Well sure I have. I mean Rose and Alice are cool. However the majority at QMC seem like complete douchebags. I met a girl called Jess Stanley the other day...yeah."

"Ohhh lucky you."

"Yeah lucky me. She spent the whole of calculus chewing my ear off; I left thinking that I'd been mauled by a Rottweiler or something"

"Yeah she does have that effect. I just tolerate as she's a pretty big fan of the band."

"She is? I didn't realise that she was into music" and I instantly feel bad for badmouthing the girl.

"Well she isn't I don't think, she's just always at the barrier dead centre. She always looks like she's got something in her eye though. It's kind of weird. Jazz thinks that she's winking. But it really doesn't look like it, I just don't know, I feel like going backstage and getting the girl an eyewash or something."

Before I know it I'm in hysterics. Full on guffaws as well. None of that nice girl giggle. I am almost cackling in Edward Cullen's car. If I didn't find the whole thing so funny I'd probably be embarrassed.

"You know that kind of makes sense when I think back to what she told me the other day."

"And what did she tell you the other day Miss Swan?" And the way he says "Miss Swan" is far nicer than whenever Miss Newberry says it and the crooked smile he gives me instantly sobers my laughter.

"Oh well nothing really."

"Surely something?"

"You really want to know?"

"Well call me masochistic but I'm slightly curious as to what young Stanners has been filling your pretty little head with." And there's that delicious smirk again that I want to wipe right off his face and did he just call me pretty? I guess he did in a roundabout way. Oh he's good. He's really good and he knows it.

"Well if you really want to know Edward then who am I to decline you of what you wish" and the smirk widens "she just told me various scenarios in which she would wish to "nail" you" and his face pales. Yeah Cullen, two can play at this game. "I mean I'd be flattered."

"Please tell me you're joking!" He splutters.

"Well of course I am. Girl code remember? I can't break that. She did however link your name with various delightful adjectives."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was thrilling."

"Oh I can imagine." 

"You bet." 

"That is quite weird though." 

"Weird can be good though can't it?" 

"Well I suppose but I've never actually spoken to her. I think I thanked her for coming to a gig once. Did I? Yeah I did. She didn't say much though. She just started breathing really heavily. I thought she was having some kind of asthma attack so gave her my water bottle." 

"You gave her your water bottle?" 

"Yeah." 

"I bet she still has it." 

"Eww Swan that's creepy." 

"Yeah it is isn't it. Quite sweet though. I mean your band must mean a lot to her." 

"I hope so." And he's grinning once again. 

"I'm sorry to cut this short Swan but I need to get home and feed the cat. So do you want a lift?" 

"You need to go feed your cat?" 

"Yeah of course, can't keep Mr Whiskers from his Felix." 

"Seriously?" 

"No but I figured saying that was far better than admitting I have a curfew." 

"Yeah that is kind of lame. I would lie." 

"Do you have a curfew?" 

"Well of course, my dad is the chief of police, it kind of comes with the package." 

Its surprising how easy it is to talk to him, is this banter? I think it is. I really didn't expect this and it doesn't take long for us to arrive outside my house but I don't make to move out of the car. 

"I thought you would lie?" 

"Well I would if I was a guy. You're Mr Hot-shot rockstar, aren't you supposed to be badass?" 

"Of course I'm badass Swan. 

"You have a curfew though." 

"Yeah but I'm still badass. I play guitar." 

"I play guitar. It doesn't make me a badass." 

"You play guitar?" 

"Yeah." 

"See it is badass."

"How is that badass? For all you know I could suck."

"That doesn't matter, chicks playing guitar is always badass. Do you need walking to your door?" 

"Do you want to get shot?" 

"What? Dear god Swan I do not." 

"Its probably better that you stay here then." 

"Right. Right well I'll see you on Monday." 

"See you on Monday Cullen" and with a wink he's gone. 

I don't actually know what just happened. Like seriously have no idea. I just talked to Edward "Hot-shot Rockstar" Cullen. No I had a conversation with Edward "Hot-shot Rockstar" Cullen. This is surreal. Are we friends? I don't know. I hope so.


End file.
